I’m sitting here a bit shell-shocked. Today I received some news that a friend’s wife, also a fan of mine, died suddenly. Cancer. Diagnosed only three months ago, she developed a sudden infection and died. She was one of the most generous and kindest women I’ve known. Never had a mean thing to say about anyone. Helped out at animal shelters, finding homes for strays. A decent human being with a big heart.
She loved my first book, my second book, and she was looking forward to reading COBRA, my third. She never got the chance. She was diagnosed the month it came out.
Lately I’ve been struggling a lot with the meaning of my life. My last trip to Nicaragua raised some thought-provoking questions. I feel restless and uncertain. I’m struggling with a mid-life and spiritual crisis. Should I be doing this? Or that? What direction should I take? Should I continue with writing romance and trying to get published? Or delve into something entirely different? Introspection, self-examination.
And then I get news like today and I realize how precious little time we all have. Maybe the lesson is, live your life as if you’re going to die tomorrow. Because you just never know. You might.